


Been an awful good girl, Santa baby

by atlaswho



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Secret Santa, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlaswho/pseuds/atlaswho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mizuki throws the best parties, Aoba is a slutty drunk, and Koujaku is a man of tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been an awful good girl, Santa baby

Another Christmas party at Black Needle, another Christmas spent blind drunk and laughing until his cheeks felt as if they were about to split, another set of memories to remember for years to come, a new set of friends to share them with. It would be Aoba’s first Christmas with Sei.

About a week before the party, Sei had started getting sick. He hadn’t come downstairs for his morning tea, and when Aoba had brought it to him, he’d looked white as snow. He didn’t venture far from Sei’s side for a few days, being sure to keep a watchful eye on him. The possibility of skipping the party had crossed his mind, and he’d mentioned it to his grandmother in passing, to which she grunted in response. Her typical noise of acknowledgement, whether she agreed or not.

“You can’t skip,” Sei pleaded before Aoba had even made two steps through the bedroom door. “You can’t skip the Christmas party because of me.” He elaborated, sadness leaking into his tone. Aoba sighed and crossed the room to his bedside, sitting carefully by Sei’s legs.

“I have to be here for you, Sei,” he placed a fresh glass of water with a single slice of lime on the bedside table. “I want to. You’re my brother.” He finished, smiling softly. A moment passed, and he whipped the lime out of the water, placing it on a small dish. Nothing too strong in flavour yet: Grandmother’s orders.

“I want you to have fun, be with your friends.” Sei pouted, drawing his eyebrows together. Sei had become awfully stubborn recently, though Aoba was thankful for it. When Aoba had first brought Sei home from Platinum Jail, there was so little of him left, Aoba had wondered if he would ever speak again, let alone be where he is now. Every ounce of personality that shone through Sei was a blessing in Aoba’s eyes, and he was grateful. “Grandma can look after me for just one night,” Sei continued. Aoba took a deep breath, reaching out his hand and gently placing it on top of Sei’s, stroking the soft skin over his knuckles. He wasn’t as cold as he had been.

“One night,” Aoba repeated, “and I’ll come back.”

Sei didn’t miss the flash of guilt in Aoba’s eyes. In the early days, Aoba had done nothing but apologise, overwhelming remorse spilling from his heart and his lips as he tried to find forgiveness in Sei; a forgiveness he didn’t need, in Sei’s opinion. Never once had he blamed Aoba for their separation, or the distance that remained between them for so long – how could he? But Aoba couldn’t quite shake the guilt that clung to his back like a leech.

“I know, Aoba,” Sei smiled warmly at him, turning his palm upward to hold his hand. “Try not to get too drunk!” he giggled, and Aoba rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, too.

~

It was an irrefutable fact that Mizuki always threw the _best_ parties. With the Golden Combination of a vast knowledge of alcohol and cocktails, a wide circle of friends, and a place of his own that was perfect for hosting such events, Mizuki’s parties were a force to be reckoned with. Aoba knew this all too well; he frequented Mizuki’s little get-togethers, and came away with happy memories and a hangover every time.

This year, Clear had promised to make an appearance after he’d graciously declined last year’s invitation to Christmas at Black Needle. After he’d first removed his mask, his anxieties about his appearance hadn’t disappeared completely – the fear was always there, that people would think he looked strange; crowds were still difficult for him, let alone big parties. But over the course of the past year, he’d gained more confidence in himself thanks to gentle encouragement from the others (particularly Mizuki, Aoba had noted).

“I suppose I am being a little selfish,” Clear had said with a small smile and a faint blush dusting his cheeks, “since I would very much like to spend Christmas with Mizuki-san.” To which Aoba had rolled his eyes and made sure to let Mizuki know Clear was coming (who also seemed just as enthusiastic).

Koujaku loved Mizuki’s get-togethers more than anyone. The combination of the Benishigure and Dry Juice was like strawberries and cream; a perfect match every time. Koujaku rocked up to Black Needle with a bottle of Whiskey – topped with a festive bow – in hand, and embraced Mizuki with the same warmth as always, still undeniably grateful to have his friend back after the months of rehabilitation.

“Merry Christmas Kou-jackoff,” Mizuki greeted with a grin, clapping a hand over Koujaku’s arm as they drew apart.

“So impolite to your guests,” Koujaku laughed, passing him the whiskey, “It’s a wonder I keep coming back.”

There were a few Dry Juice members already drinking, gathered around the bar where a small stack of cups full of strong eggnog were carefully perched. Clear had been intent on helping Mizuki decorate, and the overzealous use of glitter, holly, mistletoe, and various images of animals in Christmas attire was clear evidence that Mizuki had done very little to insist otherwise.

Koujaku caught sight of Aoba leaning against the bar, cup in hand, swirling the drink carefully. His face was as expressive as ever, his eyes sharp and lips gently pursed as his gaze bore into a single spot across the floor. Koujaku couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up Aoba’s slender legs and hips, thanking every God he could think of for Aoba’s preference for tight clothing. Taking a few steps forward, Aoba caught his gaze.

“Koujaku!” he beamed, his hazel eyes bright, and soft as the morning sun. Koujaku was weak.

“Aoba, Merry Christmas!” he smiled back, reaching over and grabbing his own cup of eggnog, “I’m glad you came.” Aoba took a steady breath and avoided Koujaku’s gaze, glancing back into his cup.

“Sei will be fine for one night,” he said quietly, perhaps mostly to himself. Koujaku elected not to push him. “Besides, who am I to turn up an opportunity to see you blind drunk?” Aoba quickly recovered, taking a deliberate sip of his drink.

“Why you—!” Koujaku was _outraged_ at Aoba’s _utter and complete hypocrisy. “_ You’re the worst of the lot, I’ll have you know!” he snapped, grinning as he took the first drink of his eggnog, and Aoba laughed. It sounded like music,  the echo of birdsong against the trees in the early morning, when the air is coolest and the dew is still wet underfoot. Aoba’s laugh was gentle and bright, and the sound danced through Koujaku’s heart unlike anything else he’s heard before.

From then on, the night passed in somewhat a haze of red and green lights and music that pulsed Aoba’s body to the core, the beat throbbing against his bones. He and Koujaku continued to drink tame festive drinks until Noiz eventually convinced Mizuki to start whipping up some more exciting drinks to get things going, to which no one had objected. The music seemed to get louder the further the night went on, every now and again dipping into cheesy Christmas songs Koujaku couldn’t _resist_ singing along to, accompanied (and outshined) by Clear who received much praise and attention for his sweet rendition of ‘Santa Baby’.

Aoba wasn’t always a pissy drunk: sometimes, when the time called for it, he was a _slutty_ drunk. Tonight was one of those special occasions, it seemed, as he twisted and danced and probably would have started stripping if he’d had the layers for it. Koujaku was at his mercy, like a sailor caught in the spell of a siren’s song, unable to tear his eyes from the way Aoba moved his body, and _holy shit_ _he’s coming closer_. Had he not been drinking, Koujaku would probably have been too embarrassed to engage Aoba in any sort of dancing but drunk he was and Aoba’s gaze was locked with his as he drew closer, hips swaying in time to the beat, hand outstretched; how could he resist?

The world shifted and all that was left was the two of them, dancing together, lit up by the soft Christmas lights, close enough that in the darkness it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The rest of the world melted away and Aoba couldn’t see straight, could barely contain himself as the music thrummed around him, the warmth of Koujaku’s body overwhelming, sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

“Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

“What?”

Aoba blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision. He’d stopped moving, and was suddenly aware of just how hot it was, surrounded by dancing drunks, sweat beginning to form on his brow and sit uncomfortably in his hair. Koujaku had stopped dancing, his hands wavered on either side of Aoba’s arms, as if he was about to fall. Maybe he was. It was hard to tell.

“I need water,” Aoba spoke up over the music, and began to move to the bathroom where it would probably be quieter. Koujaku nodded, placing a hand carefully on his shoulder as Aoba led the way to the bathroom, probably to make sure he didn’t fall over and knock himself out. Something about this seemed awfully déjà vu.

Aoba rinsed cool water over his face, taking a small sip from his hands as he did so. His body was still tingling and wobbly but he could see straight, could pinpoint Koujaku’s glazed over eyes and his vague twitches as he made an effort to stay upright. Aoba was sure he looked the same, just as red-faced and unfocussed. He stood upright and stretched his arms, glancing up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Then he looked again, the flash of pale green much more obvious this time. Clear wouldn’t have put _mistletoe_ in the bathroom; this was definitely Mizuki, that absolute asshole.

 “Koujaku,” Aoba cooed his name, pushing away from the sink and towards Koujaku, “You’re a man of tradition, aren’t you?”

Koujaku took a moment to catch up with Aoba, but it was hard to focus with the alcohol numbing his brain. Aoba was gazing up at him with hazel eyes through dark, thick lashes, his expression unlike anything Koujaku had seen before. Aoba wasn’t a flirtatious person, even when drunk he never really flirted, and Koujaku wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline or the intense gaze upon him that was making his heart race and—

His train of thought was interrupted as Aoba gestured upwards with his eyes. Koujaku spared an upward glance. _A man of tradition, huh?_   Aoba took a single step forward so their bodies were barely an inch apart, the electricity between them sparked like static, the muffled thud of the music beating alongside their hearts. Aoba was suddenly more nervous than he had been ten seconds ago, the prospect of kissing Koujaku suddenly much more real and the adrenaline made his fingers tremble.

Luckily, Aoba didn’t have to be brave. Koujaku closed the space between them, gently pressing his lips to Aoba’s. It was soft and warm, and Koujaku tasted faintly of rum and something else Aoba couldn’t quite pinpoint. A small sigh left his throat as Aoba leaned into the kiss, savouring Koujaku’s flavour, the feel of his lips and the warmth of his body. It ended all too soon, Koujaku pulling away slightly, and looking back down at Aoba, with something like concern in his expression.

“Frigid old man,” Aoba muttered as he grabbed Koujaku by the collar and pulled him back down into a second kiss, much harder and much needier than before. Whatever wall had been put up between them as friends was now shattered; they both began to fall into unknown territories, stumbling into the darkness that both frightened and fascinated them.

Aoba’s head was still spinning with the alcohol in his system and the overwhelming sensation of kissing Koujaku, his body leaning forward into Koujaku’s for support, pushing him against the wall. Not that Koujaku was complaining. Aoba felt Koujaku’s tongue lick his lower lip gently, asking for invitation, which Aoba gave freely. The heat of Koujaku’s mouth was like a whole new realm of sensations and tastes, the warm wetness of his tongue and the tang of alcohol and something distinctly Koujaku; faint tobacco and barely sweet, like the smell of patchouli incense. Aoba welcomed his tongue, raising his hands to Koujaku’s shoulders and dragging them along the skin of the base of his neck. Koujaku wasn’t wearing his neck accessory today, which Aoba was thankful for as his fingers traced up the warm skin, feeling his pulse racing beneath his fingertips, where they eventually found soft hair. Aoba threaded his fingers through Koujaku’s hair at the nape of his neck, simply holding him close as they kissed, unable to let him go. Koujaku’s hands were resting on his hips, his thumb rubbing small circles into the muscle by his pelvis, which only served to egg Aoba on further.

Aoba was annoyed for the first time in his life that Koujaku _wasn’t_ wearing that damn flashy kimono as his hands made their way down to his chest resting on the soft fabric of a sweater rather than a bare chest. He could still feel his firm muscles under the fabric and the heat radiating from his body into his fingers and down his arms. His spine shuddered and Aoba couldn’t help but moan softly into Koujaku’s mouth. That was all the encouragement Koujaku needed to switch their positions, pushing Aoba back against the wall instead. Aoba let out a small yelp of surprise, which Koujaku quickly swallowed, devouring his mouth again, and Aoba opened up for him willingly.

Their hands were fumbling and roaming like a pair of horny teenagers, and Koujaku hoisted Aoba’s leg up by his hip, a firm grip on his thigh. Aoba was never usually this confident, but the buzz of vodka and other strange cocktails gave him an edge, and Koujaku was not about to start complaining as Aoba very gently rolled his hips forward, barely there friction that served to wind them both up even more.

Koujaku kissed along Aoba’s jaw, nibbling at his earlobe as he went, trailing sloppy kisses and gentle nips at his neck. Aoba groaned at the wet sounds he was making, fingers curling in his hair in encouragement to keep going. Then a thought occurred to him: a game changer.

“Your place?” Aoba felt his heart thud against his ribcage, unsure of where this was about to go, unsure of how Koujaku was about to react. Time seemed to stop, the three seconds of silence between them dragging out for what felt like hours. Koujaku turned his full attention to Aoba, staring down at him with a piercing red gaze, though Aoba didn’t shy away. Koujaku didn’t frighten him, he never would. His gaze was always kind, his heart always soft, and this was no different.

“Do you want this?” he asked, slowly. Aoba didn’t even have to think, he nodded. He trusted Koujaku, and he trusted himself.

Koujaku led him out of the bathroom and back into the bar. The colourful lights and loud music hit Aoba like a wave, far too much all at once from the quiet of the bathroom. Squinting, he gripped onto Koujaku’s hand a little tighter, trusting he wouldn’t let Aoba bump into anyone.

They stumbled back to Koujaku’s apartment, and forgot that there had been any tension in the first place. The city was too light to let the stars shine through, but the moon was high in the sky, bright and solid, illuminating the clouds around it.

Aoba pushed passed Koujaku as he opened the door, closing the gap between them as he closed the door, hungrily nipping at Koujaku’s bottom lip. Koujaku let himself be pushed against the door, matching Aoba’s fervour eagerly and kissing him with just as much need. Aoba’s hands began to mindlessly fumble at Koujaku’s belt, hooking a finger into the waistband of his pants to pull their groins flush together.

“Fuck,” Koujaku muttered against his mouth. Aoba could feel him hardening under his hand and _fuck_ Aoba just wanted to shove it down his throat. He wanted Koujaku, all of him, to be surrounded by his being and his warmth and to feel him completely, to be filled to the brim with nothing but him; for the only words to spill from his mouth to be Koujaku, Koujaku, _Koujaku._ “Bedroom,” Koujaku mumbled between kisses, panting hotly into Aoba’s mouth as his fingers grazed the bulge in his pants, and his own hardness pressed against him. Aoba nodded, allowing Koujaku to lead the way, kicking his shoes off as they went.

Koujaku had a similar idea. Barely a few steps into his room Koujaku had discarded his top layers and his own shoes and socks. Aoba stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on the man before him. The soft moonlight poured in through the window, and even in the darkness Aoba could see scars littered over Koujaku’s body, the harsh lines of the tattoos along his arm and shoulder.

Two steps was all he needed to close the space between them. He traced a finger gently over the scars on his stomach, trailing upwards to his chest and his shoulders. Aoba could see goose bumps rising under his touch, felt Koujaku’s faint quiver.

“Are you afraid?” he asked gently, meeting Koujaku’s gaze.

“No,” Koujaku replied earnestly, not a flicker of doubt in his eyes, “No, I’m not.”

Taking this as a sign to continue, Aoba leant down to press a kiss to a small scar on Koujaku’s chest. He continued to make his way down, kissing each one he’d touched, making sure to cherish each part of Koujaku as he was. He needed Koujaku to know that Aoba had seen him at his worst, the beast that Ryuuhou had created, that Koujaku was ashamed of, and the guilt that ate away at his core, and he loved Koujaku regardless.

He loved Koujaku.

The realisation wasn’t as overwhelming as Aoba may have expected. Perhaps he always knew, really.

Focussed, Aoba pulled away at Koujaku’s belt and popped open his pants, pulling his dick free from the now too-tight constraints of his underwear. Koujaku let out a shaky breath as Aoba took him in hand, kneeling before him. He felt warm in his hand, solid, and _big holy shit._ Aoba licked his hand slowly, making sure to stare up at Koujaku as he did, no matter how hard he knew he was blushing. He took Koujaku’s cock and began pumping slowly, teasing him to full hardness, and Koujaku was fucking weak. Aoba heard him groan above him, and couldn’t help but grin to himself, placing a kiss at the base of his dick.

Once Aoba was satisfied, he took the tip of Koujaku’s cock into his mouth, working his tongue under the head. It felt hot, pulsing against his tongue, and it tasted good. Not sweet or unpleasant, or anything Aoba could picture but it tasted of Koujaku, the small drops of precum slightly salty on the back of his tongue. Aoba relished in the taste, hungry for it, happy to take it all in and more.  Koujaku’s hips twitched, and a hand fell to Aoba’s head, grasping lightly at his hair for support as he worked his head.

Encouraged by Koujaku’s laboured breathing above him, Aoba began to take more into his mouth, flattening his tongue and letting his lips stretch wider over his girth. Swallowing around his dick, Aoba began to move his head further down as far as he could go before he choked, and reached up between Koujaku’s thighs, rolling his balls in the palm of his hand.

“Aoba—nng...” Koujaku moaned, biting his lip as his hips twitched forward in a slight thrust he couldn’t quite help, but drew back further in an effort to resist. Aoba glanced up at him, stroking his thigh, urging him to continue. Still hesitant, Koujaku began to thrust weakly deeper into Aoba’s mouth, and Aoba eagerly met his thrusts. With each bob of his head, he took Koujaku’s cock deeper and deeper, making wet sounds as his tongue worked the base. Aoba moaned around his dick, and Koujaku whimpered as he felt the vibrations against his cock, hands seeking purchase in Aoba’s hair.

“Aoba...” Koujaku huffed, tugging slightly on Aoba’s hair, “A-Aoba please.” He pulled away from Koujaku’s cock with a soft pop and a small trail of saliva and precum between his lower lip and the tip of Koujaku’s swollen dick. “Come here,” he continued, urging Aoba to stand. He did so eagerly, Koujaku’s dick still in hand, pumping lazily and with ease, spreading the mixture of spit and precum. They made their way back to the bed, Koujaku making quick work of discarding Aoba’s shirt and relieving him of his pants.

“You taste good,” Aoba said. The words spilled from his tongue without him really meaning for them to. His mind had lost its filter and his mouth was working of its own accord, it seemed.

“I’m starting to get a little jealous,” Koujaku replied easily, hovering over Aoba, “I haven’t had the pleasure, yet.” Aoba didn’t have a chance to respond as Koujaku kissed him again. There was only need now, all tongue and spit and need. Koujaku pulled away too soon, only to replace his tongue with two of his fingers, which Aoba accepted greedily, suckling at them fervently. He swirled his tongue over the scarred digits in his mouth, coating them in saliva, eager for what he knew was coming.

As Aoba worked Koujaku’s fingers, his hand trailed down his bare chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin. “Nngh—!” Aoba groaned around Koujaku’s fingers, biting gently. Koujaku didn’t waste any time in taking Aoba’s cock, circling a thumb over the tip where small beads of precum had already surfaced, spreading it generously. Aoba’s entire body felt as if it was on fire, and he found himself helplessly thrusting into Koujaku’s hand, biting and suckling on his fingers greedily, whimpering as his hips felt numb with need. “Koujakuuuu...” he whined, arching his back and rolling his hips into Koujaku’s grip, “Fuck me,” Aoba said, barely a whisper.

“Shit, Aoba,” Koujaku took his fingers out of Aoba’s mouth and quickly reached to the nightstand, fumbling for the lube. He poured a generous amount onto his already coated fingers, aware that spit was not, in fact, a lubricant. He trailed kisses down Aoba’s flushed chest, lingering over his perk nipples for a brief moment, relishing in the sweet sounds Aoba made and the way his body twitched and writhed beneath his mouth. Aoba could hardly stand it, he was too sensitive to be teased; he needed Koujaku and he needed him _now_.

Aoba’s thighs twitched as Koujaku placed gentle kisses against his skin. His cock was swollen and flush and it had barely been touched, already leaking onto his stomach. Koujaku pressed a finger against his ass, circling the entrance gently, pressing ever so slightly.

“Koujaku, _come on_!” Aoba snapped, unable to stop himself from pressing his hips down against Koujaku’s hand, which drew away much to his disappointment.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?” he murmured, loud enough for Aoba to hear, to take him seriously. Aoba nodded weakly, resting his head back against the pillow as he waited, hips twitching in anticipation. Aoba wasn’t concerned, he knew Koujaku would be gentle; he always had been. His anxieties melted away when Koujaku was with him, it was in his nature.

He felt Koujaku press inside of him ever so slowly with a single digit. It was uncomfortable, but not painful, though he probably had the alcohol to thank partially for that. Aoba sighed into it, rolling his hips to meet Koujaku’s hand, encouraging him to keep going, reassuring him that he was okay. Koujaku complied, pushing in further with ease. Without warning, Aoba felt Koujaku’s mouth around his dick. He cried out in surprise, but didn’t have time to adjust as Koujaku began to bob his head up and down in time with his hand.

It didn’t take long for him to add a second finger, and the uncomfortable feeling of being filled melted into pleasure, his back arching as Koujaku’s fingers curled and scissored inside of him. It wasn’t enough, though, Aoba thought. He needed more, to be completely full, to the brim. He wanted to be fucked until he was crying, until he couldn’t speak. This was too slow, too gentle and Aoba felt too much need to take it slow. Not this time.

“Fuck me, Koujaku,” he pleaded under his breath, threading his fingers through Koujaku’s hair, “Please, please, please, _fuuuuck,_ ” he keened, tugging on Koujaku’s hair, feeling too close and not nearly fucked enough.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” Koujaku asked as he pulled away, adding a third finger for good measure. Aoba almost sobbed, pushing back against his hand, his dick aching with want for more. Suddenly Koujaku’s fingers brushed against something inside of him, and Aoba’s body lit up, sparks of electricity shot through his veins, and he let out a cry, a second aborted sob because holy shit it felt _so fucking good_.

“Yes,” Aoba whined, “yes, yes, yes, do that again,” he begged, and Koujaku was more than happy to oblige, curling his fingers against it again. Aoba’s hands curled into fists in Koujaku’s hair, and Aoba heard him groan beneath him, so he continued. He pulled and tugged as Koujaku pressed against it again and again and Aoba cried out.

It didn’t take long for Koujaku to show mercy. Aoba almost protested the loss of Koujaku’s fingers but they were quickly replaced with something much larger and much warmer. Koujaku smeared more lube over his dick, before gently nudging Aoba to roll over.

“Lie on your side, I want to try something,” he explained, and Aoba complied. Koujaku positioned himself behind Aoba, one hand slipping between them and hoisting Aoba’s leg in the air, spreading him open, the other wrapped around Aoba’s chest, holding them flush together. Aoba held his leg in the air obediently as Koujaku pressed the tip of his cock against Aoba’s ass. “You ready?” he breathed into Aoba’s ear. He nodded, already out of breath.

The feeling of Koujaku filling him was exquisite, incomparable to the feeling of his fingers. It was so solid and made him feel so full and Jesus fucking Christ it felt so good. Aoba let out a slow moan as Koujaku filled him, the sound of Koujaku’s laboured breathing in his ear going straight to his dick. He didn’t give Koujaku the chance to stop and ask if he was okay, his hand reaching back and pulling Koujaku closer until they were connected completely. Aoba shifted his hips, breathing deep through his nose as he got used to the sensation of being stretched around Koujaku’s girth.

“You good?” Koujaku asked, kissing the nape of his neck behind Aoba’s ear.

“Yeah,” he replied, reaching his arm back to caress Koujaku’s hair, turning his head to meet his gaze, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Koujaku kissed him gently, chastely, a soft reassurance. “I’m gonna move now,” he whispered, and Aoba only nodded.

Koujaku started slow, and they moved together easily, matching each other’s pace. Aoba rocked back against Koujaku, feeling his hot breath against his neck and his grip around his chest gentle but firm. Aoba had never previously considered that they would be here, connected and writhing and moving together like this but it felt so natural and so safe that he knew he wasn’t afraid of where this would go, what would become of them.

Aoba might have guessed that Koujaku was a talker, and he was right, but it wasn’t any dirty talk or over confident declarations of his own prowess, but rather mumbled curses and Aoba’s name spilling from his lips against his neck and ear. Aoba, however, was embarrassingly loud, making hot needy noises as Koujaku fucked into him, fingers grasping at Koujaku’s arm around his chest and clumsily searching for purchase in Koujaku’s hair behind him.

Aoba knew he couldn’t last and was eager to pick up the pace, grinding down on Koujaku like his life depended on it, squeezing around his cock in invitation. Koujaku growled in his ear, and began to fuck harder into Aoba, pounding into his ass and hitting that sweet spot with startling accuracy.

“Shit—! Koujaku!” Aoba cried, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, Koujaku, there!” He sounded filthy, but he didn’t care. Any shame he might have had was wiped away by the white hot heat spreading through his gut and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with Aoba’s gasps and cries.

“Aoba,” Koujaku gritted out between laboured breaths, fingers curling against Aoba’s skin and his thrust became more erratic.

 “Kou—jaku, I’m cl—Ah!” Aoba moaned, unable to string together a full sentence. Koujaku quickly released Aoba’s leg, and groped between them for his neglected cock and pumping hard and fast with his thrusts, his free hand grasping for Aoba’s. Their fingers entwined together, Aoba’s nails digging in slightly as he came close to his climax.

“Yeah,” Koujaku huffed into his ear, nibbling at his earlobe. Aoba didn’t have it in him to hold back, thrusting helplessly back against Koujaku’s cock and into his hand, his body spasming beyond his control. He bit down on his lip hard as he came, spilling over Koujaku’s hand, fucking him through it and coming only seconds after with a grunt.

They lay there completely spent, exhausted and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Aoba winced as he felt Koujaku dislodge himself, closing his legs. Koujaku wrapped his arms around Aoba’s body, keeping him close, and pressing a kiss to his neck. Aoba shuffled around, nuzzling his nose into Koujaku’s chest, taking a deep breath. This was okay, they would be okay. They had taken a leap of faith together into a place neither of them really knew, but no matter what they wouldn’t drift too far apart. Koujaku pressed a kiss to Aoba’s sweaty forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Aoba,” he murmured. Aoba rolled his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, you damn hippo.” Koujaku chuckled and squeezed him gently.

Mizuki always had the _best_ parties.

**Author's Note:**

> wow cowjack u own more clothes?? late merry christmas everyone ~
> 
> roll around w me on my tumblr clearsnut.tumblr.com


End file.
